


that which we call a rose

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame FitzSkimmons, F/F, Mild Angst, Multi, Polyamory, poly positive, self exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: "I think I have feelings for Fitz."Despite a loving and committed relationship with girlfriend Daisy, Jemma finds some confusing feelings for Fitz coming back into her heart and mind. Questioning and self-exploration ensues, about Jemma's own identity and the future of her relationship(s), but Daisy isn't about to leave her out to dry.





	that which we call a rose

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly paraphrased from a prompt by Florchis on Tumblr.
> 
> a heads up for the Skimmons shippers before going ahead; Skimmons/Bioquake are definitely the focal ship in this fic, but it does have an implied (potential) endgame of FitzSkimmons, so romantic feelings for Fitz are discussed prominently and positively. If that's not for you, best we go our separate ways now.
> 
> and to everyone (else), this fic is poly-positive although a 2-person couple is prominent. Hateful comments will be deleted immediately.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jemma danced around the kitchen, preparing tea and pancakes for herself, and for Daisy when she woke up. She couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about, but apparently it had been very pleasant, and had put her in a good mood that had her – so far – sailing through the day. She was doling out berries onto their plates by the time Daisy padded into the kitchen, yawning, and walking on the feet of her pyjama pants. Daisy perked up immediately when she saw Jemma’s preparation, and the way she was dancing in her socks around the place.

“Somebody got up on the right side of the bed this morning,” Daisy remarked with a snort, and a smile as Jemma slid over and put a cup of tea in her hands. “What did you take last night? I want some.”

Jemma laughed, and then remembered.

She’d been dreaming about _Fitz._

Grabbing her smile to make sure it did not fade from her face, Jemma shrugged, and fetched their breakfast with an angelic shrug.

“Oh, you know,” she said, “just… love.”

“Okay.” Daisy smirked at her, a little thrown off by her vagueness. “Love you too, babe.”

Jemma pecked her on the cheek, and passed the maple syrup.

-

As the morning wore on, the previous night’s elusive dream and the very real feelings it had given her – or perhaps, simply revealed in her? - gnawed at Jemma. The initial euphoria soon turned rotten and uncomfortable, and the more she tried to remember the dream (perfectly domestic, and all in sandy colours and warm and soft and that’s all she could quite recall) the worse it became. It felt good. Like a crush. But also, like cheating. Thinking about it felt wrong, but so did pretending that it had never happened. Against Jemma’s will, her thoughts lingered on it, and the evidence began to pile up that these feelings had been around longer than she’d thought. What did that mean, then? Clearly, that it was too late, if it had ever been possible, to shrug it off. There was no way out of the storm except through it. But through how? Cutting ties with Fitz? Confessing to Daisy? Jemma’s mind spun around in increasingly anxious circles until she began to bite at her thumbnail.

“Damn it,” she cursed, catching herself. She thought she’d kicked that habit years ago. But at least it pulled her back to reality, just in time for her phone to _ding!_

A text from Fitz.

_Still on for lunch?_

With a start, Jemma looked at the time. It was almost one o’clock; half an hour past when, she suddenly remembered, she had agreed to meet him.

“Damn it,” she hissed again, and slapped her phone face down on the desk. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have the clarity of thought for this. Nevertheless, she prompted herself, she should reply. Biting her lip, feeling another twist of guilt, she typed a quick lie:

_Sorry, not feeling well. Reschedule?_

Not feeling well? She couldn’t have gone with ‘caught up at work’? Now she was lying for pity as well. She pinched her nose, and her phone went off again. Fitz.

_K. Get well soon._

He’d put the little pink hearts on the end, and Jemma felt a smile touch her face before she could stop it. She quickly shut her phone off and put it back on the desk, shaking her head in self-pity. A third curse just seemed superfluous.

-

When Daisy got home that evening, she was surprised to find Jemma already in bed. There was a book on her knees, but – and Daisy couldn’t be sure about this part – it didn’t look like she’d actually been reading it.

“Hey babe, you feeling okay?” Daisy wondered. Jemma pouted pitifully.

“Can we have dinner in bed?” she requested. “I wanna talk.”

“Sure,” Daisy agreed. “I’ll order takeout. The usual?”

“Please.”

“Okay. Mind if I shower before this ‘talk’?”

Jemma waved her through to the ensuite. Daisy smiled a little, reassuring in her optimism as she began to unbutton her shirt with one hand and call the Chinese place with the other on her way to the bathroom. Once Daisy was out of sight, Jemma tried to focus on her novel again, but ran her finger down the side of the page uselessly. She couldn’t focus on the story, couldn’t bring herself to care about the characters, as her gut churned over increasingly disappointing possibilities that lay before her in real life. She was still sure that talking to Daisy was the best way to go, but that didn’t mean it was not going to hurt, or cause conflict. They might even break up. Maybe they’d have to. Maybe they should.

The shower ran, and Jemma took a deep breath. It probably wouldn’t be that bad, realistically, but just in case it was, she was glad to have these extra few minutes of peace to savour. They were over quickly, though, as Daisy was too concerned, too desperate to find out what was clearly weighing on Jemma’s mind, to enjoy the usually relaxing flow of the water.

Coming out of the bathroom, Daisy pulled on a loose old shirt and crawled onto the bed, stealing a pillow to cover her legs with before they got started.

“Now, what’s this talk, hm?” she wondered, and bumped Jemma with her shoulder. “Is it a relationship talk? Good or bad?”

Jemma sighed.

“Bad. I think.”

“Oh.” Daisy’s face dropped. “Break-up bad?”

“I hope not.”

“Me too,” Daisy agreed. She took a deep breath and squeezed the pillow tightly for a moment. “Alright, let’s have it then.”

“I think – “ Jemma confessed, her fingers tugging at the doona for a distraction. That pillow-hugging idea of Daisy’s was a good one. “I think I have feelings for Fitz.”

“Oh.” Daisy nodded slowly. “Well, okay. How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Well, just today, but-“

Daisy laughed, lightly.

“Just today? Oh, Jemma, come on. The man’s been your best friend for almost half your life! Of course you’re going to have some confusing feelings about him. I get it. I’ve been there. But one day’s worth of feelings is nothing to be freaking out over.”

“But what if it’s not just one day?” Jemma fretted. “I only _noticed_ today, but that doesn’t mean I’ve only been feeling it this long. Like, what if I remember his favourite sandwich for a reason? What if my favourite tea is his tea, not because it’s better after all, but because it’s _him_ who’s making it? What if – what if me following him around at the Academy all those years ago… What if it means something?”

Daisy’s heart clenched, but she was still smiling. She felt like kissing Jemma’s worry away, but in this case, she doubted it would help, so embraced her gently instead.

“What could it possibly mean?” she asked, crooning a little. “Why’s any of that making you so miserable? Are you worried about me?”

The sweetness, the forgiveness, the love in her voice brought tears to Jemma’s eyes all of a sudden. Blinking rapidly to dispel any tears that might think to sneak out, Jemma drew something – a photograph – from the back of the novel she had been not-reading. Looking over her, Daisy saw that it was a picture, a slightly faded analog film picture, of Jemma, dressed in stage blacks and draped in rainbows: scarves, jewelry, a crude facepaint drawing on her cheek.

“Is that – glitter?” Daisy wondered. Jemma angled the picture, trying to see better, and snorted.

“Oh, probably,” she agreed. “This was my first Pride. Fitz was there; he’s taking the photo. He was the first person I came out to, in the States. I was worried at first that, you know, he was going to make it weird. He didn’t. He was really good about it, actually.”

“That’s good,” Daisy cheered, giving Jemma a light, encouraging squeeze. Jemma sighed, a long and weighted sigh, and Daisy frowned. Gently, she asked; “so what’s the problem?”

“It took me a long time,” Jemma explained. “To figure out who I was. I was so much younger than everybody else, and so much more accelerated than my own cohort. I’d thought it was just that at first. A lack of anybody really compatible. Once I started to notice patterns I was sort of – relieved. It was starting to make sense. Now it doesn’t anymore.”

“Love and attraction are strange things,” Daisy agreed. “But you get to make sense of it however it makes sense to you. It’s okay if it changes.”

“But isn’t that what they say?” Jemma returned. “It’s always a phase, and lesbians are all secretly attracted to men, and if the guy waits long enough he’ll always get the girl, and-”

“Woah, wait, who’s this ‘they’?” Daisy interrupted. “Jemma. Babe. Look at me.”

Daisy took Jemma’s hands in her own until Jemma’s eyes steadied on hers.

“First of all,” Daisy explained, “I think _ten years_ is a bit beyond the Friendzone Warrantee. If Fitz wanted in your pants he would have given up by now. I’m afraid he’s a decent person, and now he’s stuck with us. And secondly –“

Slowly, she enunciated:

“ _Who. Gives. A Fuck._ It’s not on you to meet all of society’s expectations. You love who you love, everyone else can get stuffed.”

Jemma almost laughed, the curse feeling at odds with the earnest expression in Daisy’s eyes. And yet, somehow, it was perfectly in tune. Jemma sighed again, but it was lighter this time.

“You know what I mean,” she insisted. “I feel like I’m being… a bad lesbian, I guess. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Who says anything has happened?” Daisy reminded her. “It’s been one day. One weird dream and by the sounds of things, a hell of a lot of overthinking. It doesn’t mean you’re in love.”

“But what if it does? What if I _am?”_

“Well, that depends.” Daisy took a deep breath. Her heart clenched a little, not so optimistically this time, as she nudged the proverbial door open. “Do you think you’re still in love with me too?”

 _“Yes,_ Daisy, absolutely I love you!” Jemma gasped. “Of course I do!”

“Then we’ll just have to figure something out.” Daisy smiled a little, reassured, and entwined her fingers with Jemma’s. She kissed the back of Jemma’s hand gently.

It was at this moment, of course, that the doorbell had to ring. Daisy climbed out of bed and pulled on pants on her way to answer it. At least when she came back, the mood was more settled than it had been: warmer and more forgiving.

“You really don’t mind?” Jemma checked, as Daisy began passing out the food and arranging a little food-nest around them.

“Hey, I can’t control your heart,” Daisy acknowledged. “As long as I’m still in it, I’m good.”

“But it’s not – it’s not exactly what you signed up for, is it?” Jemma blushed a little.

“What?” Daisy frowned. “What did you think I signed up for? I just went down to the lesbian store one day and was like ‘one cute, ridiculously intelligent, non-biphobic English one please’, and they were like sure! Make sure you walk her twice a day and don’t feed her shellfish?”

Jemma couldn’t help laughing at that.

“No- “ she said. “Well, maybe.”

Daisy snapped a pair of chopsticks apart and passed them to Jemma, then snapped a pair of her own and started opening boxes.

“Did you ever consider,” she offered, “that maybe you’re not a bad lesbian. Maybe you’re a really good bi.”

“You think?”

“Sure, absolutely.”

“What do I do, then?”

“Well, study up Missy, there’s an entrance exam next week!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. Daisy beamed at her, and high-fived her chopsticks instead.

“Welcome to the club, babe. We really do have T-shirts.”


End file.
